Zhao Wenbo’s pupils trembled slightly. He hurriedly covered Wang Xiangmei’s mouth, but it was too late. Shen Qingli had already stopped in her tracks and turned around.
His heart tightened. The next moment, seeing Shen Qingli’s cold, beautiful face paired with her gentle, luminous eyes, he felt as if the winter night’s moonlight had descended—clear, sharp, yet tender.
His pupils dilated, his body trembled slightly, his heart raced wildly, and his cheeks flushed an alarming shade of red.
Shen Qingli’s voice was calm as she replied,
“What’s the matter?”
She deliberately stepped a few paces closer. Through the open window, her face seemed larger, clearer, her flawless skin almost translucent.
Zhao Wenbo felt as if his mouth were sealed—he couldn’t utter a word, his mind went blank, and the blush spread from his cheeks to his neck.
Wang Xiangmei, seeing his uncooperative state, was somewhat exasperated. Smiling, she turned to Shen Qingli:
“Dr. Shen, are you free after work? I’d like my cousin to thank you on my behalf and invite you to a meal. Would that be okay?”
Zhao Wenbo’s heart leapt. He thought his cousin was incredibly helpful. In that instant, he even imagined giving her a huge matchmaker’s gift when they eventually married.
But Shen Qingli politely declined:
“Sorry, the hospital does not allow accepting meals or gifts from patients.”
Zhao Wenbo’s mood plummeted like a rollercoaster. He stood there awkwardly, unsure what to say.
Wang Xiangmei, however, didn’t give up:
“I just want to make friends. Please give a little face.”
“That’s not possible either. I still need to eat. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving.”
Shen Qingli didn’t want to be gossiped about by the surrounding doctors and nurses, so she left immediately.
Zhao Wenbo pursed his lips into a thin line, looking forlorn, but his eyes still followed Shen Qingli’s departing figure.
Wang Xiangmei’s smile didn’t fade. She comforted him:
“Don’t overthink it. Her refusal shows she’s a good young woman. She’s young and knows not to accept bribes in private—it doesn’t mean she dislikes you.”
Zhao Wenbo reluctantly averted his gaze from Shen Qingli and muttered,
“Then if you know that, don’t say things like this in public next time.”
Wang Xiangmei laughed harder:
“Fine, right? Look at you, so spineless.”
Zhao Wenbo said no more. Even though Shen Qingli had refused him, he felt that during Wang Xiangmei’s hospital stay, he could at least see Shen Qingli a few more times—and all legitimately.
He felt happy, a little mischievously.
Shen Qingli finished her meal and returned to the residential compound at six o’clock. Food had been left on the table, and no one else was around. She felt a rare sense of freedom.
She entered her room and carried her nightgown to the bathroom. Just as she finished showering and stepped out, she saw Su Jingshen had returned.
She lowered her gaze, pretending not to notice him, drying her hair as she moved into the room. Suddenly, she heard him say:
“Shen Qingli, didn’t I tell you not to wear nightgowns?”
She froze. Lifting her eyes, she met his gaze. He looked sharp and cold, barely glancing at her, his eyes fixed on the doorway, as if he were inspecting it.
A chill ran through her chest. Bitterness rose in her throat, but she forced it down and said:
“Your elder sister also wears a nightgown. Why don’t you say anything to her?”
Su Jingshen’s gaze remained distant.
“She doesn’t share a room with me.”
Shen Qingli let out a self-mocking smile:
“Not the same room, but the same house. She strolls around in a nightgown—you don’t see that? Isn’t her identity even more inappropriate?”
Su Jingshen said:
“I can’t control her. But you, as my wife, that’s different.”
Her suppressed emotions suddenly erupted. Her eyes turned red, and she raised her voice:
“Wife, wife—what kind of wife sleeps apart from her husband from the wedding night? We’ve been married so long and still sleep in separate beds!”
Her intent was simple: if he didn’t regard her as a wife, he shouldn’t interfere. But then he said:
“On the wedding night, you shouldn’t have mocked my sister as a widow or hit her trying to drive her away. If you apologize to her, I can forgive you and treat you as a normal wife, forgetting the past.”
At that moment, tears welled in Shen Qingli’s eyes—not from joy, but from the absurdity. She realized the reason why, in her past life, she had slept on the floor the wedding night while he never touched her—it was because of this.
Even though everything was based on Lin Meiyun’s lies, when Lin Meiyun entered the room, Shen Qingli had even smiled politely. Yet Lin Meiyun slapped her twice and then told Su Jingshen those lies. She had no way to defend herself.
Now, even with her eyes filled with wronged tears, she lifted her chin, resolute:
“Then never forgive me.”
Su Jingshen, hearing that she didn’t insist on consummating the marriage or having children, should have felt relieved—but instead, he felt inexplicably angry.
He ignored that uncomfortable feeling, thinking Shen Qingli’s head must be problematic. He had only been concerned about her wandering around in a nightgown at home, visible to others, potentially gossiping, and she didn’t appreciate it.
He left.
Shen Qingli’s stubbornness dissolved instantly. Exhausted, she swallowed the rising bitterness and angrily went to bed.
The night was long. Su Jingshen, as usual after arguments, didn’t return. She tossed and turned, unable to sleep, watching the sky lighten and hearing the morning bugle.
Her head ached, and she felt nauseated, reluctant to go to the hospital. But since her rest day was scheduled for Wednesday—tomorrow—she forced herself to get up and go.
She spent the morning dizzy, mechanically treating, bandaging, and prescribing medicine. But the nausea intensified. By the time she finished work, she couldn’t hold it in and vomited outside the hospital.
Zhao Wenbo happened to arrive. Alarmed, he hurried over:
“Dr. Shen, are you running a fever?”
Shen Qingli’s face was pale. She wiped her mouth with a tissue from her bag, her breath trembling:
“It’s nothing. I’ll take some medicine at home. Luckily, I rest tomorrow.”
Zhao Wenbo anxiously said:
“Why go home? Stay at the hospital, get some IV fluids, spend the night here.”
Shen Qingli shook her head with a smile:
“No, I’m too sensitive to noise to sleep. I couldn’t rest here at all.”
Zhao Wenbo paused, seeing her pale yet forced smile. Feeling both heartbroken and helpless, he said:
“Then, Dr. Shen, wait here for a while.”
Shen Qingli didn’t mind. She sat on the edge of the flowerbed outside the hospital. Exhausted, she propped her head with her hand and dozed.
Soon, Zhao Wenbo returned, sweating, grinning foolishly:
“Dr. Shen, I booked a private room for you. The medicine is ready. Stay here tonight.”
Shen Qingli blinked, stunned, staring at his earnest eyes. Her mind went fuzzy, unable to believe what she had just heard.
Seizing the moment, Zhao Wenbo tugged at her sleeve, guiding her toward the hospital.
Once inside, she realized it was indeed a private room. She looked at him, bewildered:
“…We barely know each other, and you booked me a private room?”